Flynn did not linger in the Starter Zone after the raid. The moment the loot was settled, he logged off.
It was dinnertime, so he headed downstairs to the diner on the corner, grabbed a simple meal, and afterward wandered aimlessly through the city streets. Central Harbor at night was a different animal than the digital forests of Aetheria. Neon signs shine brightly, traffic lights blinked lazily at half-empty intersections. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and asphalt.
He slipped a cigarette between his lips, lit it, and exhaled a thin stream of smoke into the cool evening air. His eyes narrowed slightly, a trace of nostalgia surfacing.
It had been just over a month since he started living like this.
A month ago, he had returned to Central Harbor after several years overseas. Africa had been the last stop. A few high-stakes 'contracts' there had paid more than generously. Enough that he could, if he chose, never work another day in his life. So he had chosen to disappear for a while. His plan was to take one year off. No objectives, no extraction plans, no gunfire ringing in the distance.
Just quiet.
Having been gone for four years, he'd lost touch with almost everyone. The only person he still kept regular contact with was his childhood friend, Chad. Somehow, Chad had turned himself into a professional gamer. For the past week, he had been relentlessly pestering Flynn to try the so-called Second World.
Age of Conquest.
Launched globally, it was the third major virtual reality MMO and the first one that felt like a finished product rather than a tech demo. The previous two had walked so this one could sprint. Seven of the world's largest gaming companies had pooled their resources to build it. Hyper-realistic environments. Advanced sensory feedback. A seamless world that reacted instead of scripted.
It had captured the entire industry's attention.
And it delivered.
Flynn had purchased a Neural Linker headset mostly out of boredom. He expected decent entertainment, nothing more. But once he logged in, he understood why players called it the Second World. Despite the artificial stat caps and system constraints, grinding in the wilderness felt eerily familiar. The tension of moving through hostile terrain, the awareness of positioning and the discipline of clean execution.
It reminded him of training in the Amazon.
The difference, of course, was that death here came with a respawn timer instead of a body bag.
After a single day, he was hooked. He'd decided to see how far he could take things in this digital world, still completely unaware of the huge impact the "Second World" would eventually have on the real one. To him, for now, it was just a very good game.
Back at his apartment, his phone rang. It was Chad. Flynn smiled, remembering how Chad had sworn he wouldn't log out for three days straight after launch. And yet, here he was, calling on day two.
"Hey, Fatso. What's up?" Flynn answered.
The nickname had survived since childhood, back when Chad had been the roundest kid on the block. Chad had slimmed down since then, but the name stuck.
Chad's voice was buzzing with energy. "Flynn! What level are you? Getting the feel for it yet?"
"It's all right. Hit ten this afternoon. Got cornered in a cave for a while by a silver wolf named Borg, though…"
Flynn gave him the quick version of his day. Chad whooped and laughed on the other end, sounding equal parts impressed and jealous. "Man, my whole crew are amateurs. Hardly anyone's even close to ten. We won't be touching that Wolf King for days. Listen, though, I actually need a favor."
"Go ahead."
"A few pro buddies are moving to Central Harbor to set up a team house. They need a place, and I told them I'd help look. But I'm slammed trying to level and I can't get away. Since you're just playing for fun, could you scope out some high-end spots for rent or sale?"
Flynn sighed softly but did not refuse. "Requirements?"
"Something clean, modern, in a gated community with good security. Money's not a problem; these guys are stacked. They'll buy if they have to. There's seven or eight of them, so you're probably talking two units. Ideally right next to each other, or maybe a duplex."
Chad kept talking, layering on details. Flynn pinched the bridge of his nose. Administrative tasks were not his idea of relaxation, but he had already agreed.
"You know, there's actually some space open here at Serene Bay. The place next to mine is a huge duplex; around five thousand square feet. Should be enough room."
Chad went quiet.
"Five thousand? In Serene Bay?" He let out a low whistle. "Dude, Serene Bay prices are nuts. A place that big's gotta be close to five million. These guys have money, but five mil's quite serious."
Flynn grinned. "If they're friends of yours, I can work with them on the price. Or they can just rent."
"Work with the… wait." Chad paused. "Flynn, is that your place?"
"Yeah," Flynn said. "I wanted the whole floor quiet, so I bought both the large and the small duplex up here."
"Holy shit. Okay, that makes this easy. Let me talk to them and see what they say. Thanks, man. You're saving my ass. Anything you need in-game, I got you."
"I'll remember that."
They talked for a few more minutes before hanging up. Flynn walked back into his room and slipped on the Neural Link headset. The device kept you in a light REM sleep; it wasn't as good as a full night's rest, but it cut down fatigue by a lot. After a full day inside, you only needed three or four hours of real sleep to wake up feeling fresh.
Back in Aetheria, Flynn cleared out his inventory of junk and common gear. He turned in his finished quests and made his way to the Class Trainer's hall.
When he first started playing, he had ignored trainers entirely. He just grabbed a handful of quests and headed straight into the wild. Most players fought by standing still and trading hits, but Flynn's real combat experience let him dodge almost everything, even with his starter stats. In twenty-four hours of play, he hadn't died once. He hadn't even come back to town until now, since he could recover health naturally between fights.
While "pros" like Let-There-Be-Light had needed a grueling twenty-four hours to hit Level 10, Flynn had done it in eighteen without even feeling pushed. It was the kind of efficiency that would make the hardcore guilds grind their teeth.
The Class Trainer's hall was crowded, with separate rooms for each of the seven main classes. Flynn found the Rogue trainer, a woman named Mia.
At Level 6, Rogues could pick one of two skills: Keen Strike or Lockpicking. They pointed toward the two main styles: the Night Assassin, built for high-damage kills, and the Thief, focused on utility, traps, and stealth. Most classes had a split like that. The Arcanists had it the worst, with nine different elemental paths to choose from. You got one skill for free at Level 6; anything else had to be found in rare skill books out in the world.
Flynn had zero interest in picking locks. He took Keen Strike.
—
Keen Strike:
Instantly deals 120% Attack Power plus 70% Agility as damage.
Cooldown: 3 seconds.
—
It wasn't game-breaking, but it was his first real taste of a Rogue's burst potential. If he'd had this against Borg, he might have topped the damage charts.
Eager to try it out, Flynn picked up a few more quests and left the Starter Zone.
Behind the village, a winding stream glittered under the late afternoon sun. It was a pretty spot, popular with couples looking for a nice screenshot, but the beauty was deceiving. Most of the riverbank was downright dangerous.
Crude wooden platforms and ragged huts dotted the shore, patrolled by tribes of Murlocs. Their scales shone in dull greens and grays, and their half-human, half-fish bodies were quick and lean. Some carried rusted bits of metal or heavy clubs.
After beating the Wolf King, players could unlock the Teleportation Gate to the main cities. Most Level 10s left right away, but those who stuck around could grind these Murlocs all the way to Level 15. There was also a rumor on the official forums that players who traveled to the cities on foot through the mountain passes; instead of teleporting, would get a hidden reward.
The Murlocs were here for the dedicated players. They ranged from Level 10 to 12.
When Flynn arrived, the riverbank was mostly empty. The few players around were working in tight, coordinated teams. In Age of Conquest, regular parties were capped at ten, and raids at a hundred. Most people preferred the safety and experience bonus of a small group. Bigger groups got heavy experience penalties, sometimes cutting gains down to single digits per kill.
Flynn tightened his grip on Borg's Fang and charged the nearest Murloc. As soon as he stepped into its range, the creature hissed and swung a heavy wooden club at his head. Flynn leaned just an inch to the left, letting the club whistle past his ear, then drove his dagger into the soft flesh of the creature's belly.
Murlocs were covered in tough scales everywhere except their stomachs. When Flynn's blade went in, a bright red number popped up: -54.
"Critical. Nice," Flynn muttered to himself. He'd figured out early that while you couldn't one-shot monsters by hitting vital spots, you could trigger a Critical Hit for one-and-a-half to three times the normal damage. His crazy leveling speed came mostly from his ability to hit those weak points consistently; something most players found frustratingly hard.
The game didn't show exact health numbers, but you could guess based on how much of the health bar dropped. That Level 11 Murloc had lost about a fifth of its life from one hit, putting its total health around 250.
"Keen Strike!"
Flynn spun low, his off-hand dagger following the command and sinking into the same tender spot.
Players got three attribute points per level. Flynn had dumped all thirty of his into Agility. Between that, his base stats, and the bonus from Borg's Fang, his Agility was now 47. With the skill's scaling, the hit blasted the Murloc for 59 damage.
In Age of Conquest, off-hand weapons did half damage, and Flynn's off-hand was just a plain white dagger. Even so, the skill hit like a freight train.
Flynn did the rough math. His damage output had jumped by almost fifty percent compared to his basic attacks.
"Not bad at all," he thought, weaving around the Murloc's clumsy swings and continuing to slice at its exposed belly.
In under ten seconds, the Murloc gurgled and collapsed, dropping a few copper coins and some worthless junk.
"Wait, actual money?" Flynn scooped up the coins. He'd spent all day killing wolves and hadn't seen a single copper piece until the boss fight.
He didn't know yet that in this game, only elite mobs, bosses, humanoids, and certain special creatures dropped cash. Beasts only dropped materials, and you needed the Dismantle skill to collect them.